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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26467486">Holster Gives Good Hugs</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lincyclopedia/pseuds/lincyclopedia'>lincyclopedia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>OMGCP Friendship Week [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Check Please! (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, Anxiety, Coming Out, Friendship, Gen, Hugs, Male Friendship, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Panic Attacks, Present Tense</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:40:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26467486</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lincyclopedia/pseuds/lincyclopedia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Holster hugs a member of SMH, and one time SMH dogpiles Holster. Written for OMGCP Friendship Week. Today’s prompt is “stress.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adam "Holster" Birkholtz &amp; Derek "Nursey" Nurse, Adam "Holster" Birkholtz &amp; Eric "Bitty" Bittle, Adam "Holster" Birkholtz &amp; Jack Zimmermann, Adam "Holster" Birkholtz &amp; Justin "Ransom" Oluransi, Adam "Holster" Birkholtz &amp; Shitty Knight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>OMGCP Friendship Week [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924087</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Holster Gives Good Hugs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <b>One: Ransom</b>
  </p>
</div>Holster’s known Ransom for under two months, so he can’t say for sure, but it seems like something’s wrong. Ransom is almost as good as ever in practice—better than some of the defense partners Holster had in juniors, honestly—but off the ice he’s shaky, muttering under his breath about midterms and grades and med school, avoiding eye contact, leaving team breakfast early and refusing to answer questions about the bags under his eyes. Holster doesn’t want a confrontation, but he wants the guy he’s already decided is his best bro to be okay.<p>So the day before midterms, Holster follows Ransom when he leaves team breakfast early. It turns out Ransom was going to the library, so Holster joins him at his table and gets out his own notes and starts studying too, because he needs to and he doesn’t want to break Ransom’s concentration. </p>
<p>And then Holster hears heavy breathing, and he looks up just in time to see Ransom slipping under the table, so Holster joins him. Which is difficult, considering that Holster is six-four and barely fits anywhere when it comes to vertical space. But Ransom is under the table, so that’s where Holster is going to be, too. </p>
<p>Ransom doesn’t seem to be able to breathe, but Holster can’t see anything choking him, so he just watches Ransom apprehensively as Ransom’s gasps get shallower and shallower and then gradually, excruciatingly slowly, get deeper. Holster’s muscles are cramping by the time Ransom’s eyes seem able to focus again. </p>
<p>“Bro,” says Holster. “Are you okay? Wait, that’s a bad question. Obviously you’re not okay. Um, can I do anything to help?”</p>
<p>“Can I have a hug?” Ransom asks, looking anywhere but at Holster. </p>
<p>“Yeah, bro,” says Holster. “Can we get out from under the table first?”</p>
<p>Ransom looks around sheepishly, seeming to realize where they are for the first time. “Sure.” </p>
<p>So he and Holster both ease their way out from under the table and stand, and then Holster wraps his arms around Ransom and holds him, feeling that Ransom is shaking slightly in his grip. Well, fuck.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <b>Two: Shitty</b>
  </p>
</div>It’s a week after Winter Screw and finals are almost upon them. Holster is pretty sure he’s prepared for his exams, and he’s doing his best to keep Ransom out of what they’ve dubbed “coral reef mode,” too. He’s not expecting Shitty to corner him after team breakfast one day, and his first thought is that he accidentally said or did something sexist. It wouldn’t be the first time Shitty cornered him for something like that, but he legitimately can’t think of anything he did this time. He’s been more careful, since Shitty started lecturing him on stuff like that.<p>“What’s up?” Holster asks cautiously. </p>
<p>“You know how I went to Winter Screw with that philosophy major, Ella?” Shitty asks. </p>
<p>“Yeah?” says Holster. </p>
<p>“So we had a really great time the night of the dance, you know? And we didn’t have sex—you already asked for deets the morning after, despite how hungover you were, and I already told you there weren’t any—but we danced and played beer pong and then we shared a joint and talked and it was just nice, you know? And we’ve been messaging ever since then, like, all the time, and it’s been so, so great and I know a week isn’t a long time and it would be ridiculous to say I’m in love, but I’ve been feeling some things.” </p>
<p>“Sure,” says Holster. “What does that have to do with me?”</p>
<p>Shitty sighs. “This morning I woke up to a message from her saying that she’s realized that she’s not ready for a relationship right now, since she’s studying abroad next semester. But we’d been talking about her study abroad plans and I thought everything was going to be fine! And like I said, it would be ridiculous to say I’m in love, but fuck do I like her. So I’m just bummed.” </p>
<p>“I’m sorry about that?” says Holster. “I’m still confused about why you’re telling me this privately, though.” </p>
<p>Shitty runs a hand through his flow. “Damn, I need to get better at this. I want a hug, Holster. I’m telling you this because I’m trying to ask for a hug, and apparently I can’t walk the damn walk when it comes to men needing to be better about platonic intimacy.” </p>
<p>Holster closes the distance between himself and Shitty and hugs him. Shitty squeezes back, hard, and it’s good.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <b>Three: Jack</b>
  </p>
</div>It’s a hard-fought game and the Wellies leave it all on the ice. Jack’s post-game soundbites, for all that they’re canned as hell, will be 100% accurate this time. (They often are, actually. SMH <em>is</em> a great group of guys and they <em>do</em> play hard and sometimes the other team <em>is</em> just better at moving the puck.)<p>The fact that it’s a hard-fought game and the Wellies leave it all on the ice does nothing to stop it from sucking, however. Losing sucks, and losing in the quarterfinals, effectively guillotining the season before anyone was ready to see it go, sucks even worse than a regular loss. The mood in the locker room is downright despondent, and Jack seems to be taking the loss very personally, scowling at everyone and rebuffing even Shitty’s attempts at comforting him as they all strip out of their gear. </p>
<p>So naturally Holster is damn near terrified when Jack follows him out of the locker room after they’ve all showered. </p>
<p>“Jack?” he says. “I’m sorry if you think I didn’t play my best or if you think I shouldn’t have made that pass—” </p>
<p>“Tabarnak,” says Jack quietly. “One day I’m going to have to learn how not to scare the shit out of my team. I’m not mad, Holster. I actually . . . fuck, this is hard.” </p>
<p>“What is?” Holster asks, trying to keep his voice gentle. </p>
<p>“I want a hug,” Jack says. “I told Shitty I didn’t want one when he offered me one, and I thought I didn’t, but now I think I was just being an ass because I wanted to win this game, but I can’t go and ask Shitty for a hug after I didn’t let him touch me earlier. So will you hug me instead? Please?” </p>
<p>“I really think you could ask Shitty,” Holster says, already wrapping his arms around Jack, “but I don’t mind hugging you.” </p>
<p>“Thanks,” Jack says into Holster’s shoulder.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <b>Four: Bitty</b>
  </p>
</div>“So I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while,” says Bitty, pacing in front of the green couch where Ransom and Holster are sitting. Ransom paused the game of Mario Kart when Bitty entered the Haus, the better to bother Bitty about his type in order to set him up with a Winter Screw date, but Bitty looks nervous and determined and Holster has a feeling in the back of his mind that maybe now is a time to shut up and listen.<p>And then Bitty takes a deep breath and says, “I’m gay.” </p>
<p>Holster can’t find his voice for a second, and it seems that neither can Ransom, and in that second Bitty’s face becomes a mask of fear and he starts talking again, voice higher this time. “Okay, well, that was all, so I’ll just be going now—” </p>
<p>“Bitty!” Ransom manages to say, before Bitty actually exits the room. “Bitty, hey. You’re free to leave, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s cool that you’re gay, bro. We’d never judge you for that. Right, Holtzy?” Ransom’s voice gains an edge on that last sentence, and for a second Holster’s offended, but he tamps that down. </p>
<p>“What he said,” Holster says, pointing at Ransom. “We’re still setting you up with a Winter Screw date, though. Now we just have the right demographic. So. What’s your type? Anything more specific than ‘guys’?”</p>
<p>“Um,” says Bitty, and that’s when Holster notices he's shaking. </p>
<p>“Okay, pause,” says Holster. “Are you okay, bro?”</p>
<p>“You’re the second and third people I’ve ever come out to,” Bitty admits quietly. “I came out to Shitty this morning. And like, I came to Samwell because I hoped I could be out? But also I’d never even said the words ‘I’m gay’ out loud until today. Not even to myself, like practicing in the mirror or anything. And Shitty was great and you two are being good too, but all the stuff from church back home is echoing around in my head and I just. It’s hard.” </p>
<p>“Hey,” says Ransom. “There’s no shame in that. In being gay, or in being affected by stuff people have said about that in the past.” </p>
<p>“Do you want a hug?” Holster asks. “I’ve been told I give good hugs.” </p>
<p>“He does,” Ransom says. “I’m offering too, but Holster’s hugs are legendary.” </p>
<p>“Okay,” says Bitty quietly, and Holster hugs him carefully, very aware of the difference in their sizes. Bitty’s tentative at first, barely letting himself touch Holster, but after a couple of seconds his grip tightens. Good.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <b>Five: Nursey</b>
  </p>
</div>“What’s up?” Holster asks when Nursey follows him out of the caf after team breakfast.<p>“How did you get the guys not to chirp you about liking musicals?” Nursey asks, which is not really where Holster thought this conversation was headed. “Is it just because you’re majoring in business, so they figure you’re sufficiently manly even though your other interests aren’t always the most typically masculine?”</p>
<p>“Okay, first of all,” says Holster, because he definitely is the sort of person to get hung up on details, “I’m not majoring in business. Econ is a social science that fits within the liberal arts. It’s not a pre-professional track and there are various things you can do with it; business is just one of them. But secondly, who’s chirping you about liking . . . whatever non-masculine thing it is you like?”</p>
<p>“Poetry,” says Nursey, who rolled his eyes at Holster’s explanation of econ. “I guess it’s mostly Dex.” </p>
<p>Holster sighs. “That boy needs a talking-to, probably from Shitty. Dividing interests into buckets of masculine and feminine is arbitrary and changes all the time. Knitting and pink used to be for dudes and now they’re not. Also, the rest of the team, other than Dex, is obviously cool with Bitty being Bitty and baking all the time. If Bitty can bake and I can like musicals, then you can write poetry.” </p>
<p>Nursey sighs, and Holster is surprised to hear a quiver in it. “I know I can. I just want to be left alone about it, you know? I hate the way Dex makes everything so hard. Like, I’m used to it. I was a brown queer kid at Andover. I just hoped it would be easier here.” </p>
<p>“You deserve for it to be easier here,” Holster affirms. “I’m sorry Dex is being an ass, and I’ll see what we as a team can do about it. In the meantime, do you want a hug?”</p>
<p>Nursey’s eyebrows shoot up. “Um, sure?”</p>
<p>So Holster takes Nursey into his arms. Nursey might be shaking, but he hugs back hard without hesitation. He’s only a couple inches shorter than Holster and it feels good for Holster, too, to be hugging someone almost his size. It’s nice.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <b>Plus One: Holster gets dogpiled</b>
  </p>
</div>Holster has been stressed about his post-graduation plans for a while. Regardless of what he told Nursey about econ being a social science with multiple possible career paths, he’s never really considered grad school or government or nonprofit work. His parents both have businessy jobs and that’s the type of job he’ll have too. That’s never really been in doubt.<p>What he hadn’t anticipated was how hard it would be to get one of those jobs. He’s always kind of figured that having Samwell on his resume would make employers sit up and take notice. But it turns out that there are a lot of Ivy League grads trying to go into business in Boston, and a lot of them had internships and summer jobs that Holster either didn’t have time for, given the hockey team, or didn’t <em>make</em> time for. So he’s one applicant of many, without much to make his application stand out. It doesn’t help when he finds out that some jobs have over 100 applicants for one opening. That’s substantially worse odds than getting into Harvard, let alone Samwell. And this isn’t even a recession. This is just the job market being the job market. </p>
<p>So Holster makes himself apply to at least five jobs a week, scouring Indeed almost nightly and asking Nursey for help with his cover letters. He’s applied to 22 jobs by the time he makes it to an in-person interview for the first time. He’s applied to 37 when he gets an actual offer. It’s at an app consulting startup, and he’s not sure if it’s his dream job, but then he’s not sure he has a dream job. Regardless, it’s a job, and given that he applied to it it’s something he’s at least willing to do, so this is good news. </p>
<p>The offer comes in the form of a phone call as he’s leaving lecture. He alternates between running and speed walking as he makes his way back to the Haus, where Bitty, Lardo, Ransom, and Chowder are all in the living room, bickering over something inconsequential, from the sound of it. “I got a job!” Holster announces to the room at large, interrupting the argument. </p>
<p>“Fuck yeah!” cheers Ransom. </p>
<p>“Swawesome!” says Chowder. </p>
<p>“Fuckin’ A!” adds Lardo. </p>
<p>And then they’re all mobbing him, a tangle of arms and heads and torsos, and it’s basically an off-ice celly. Holster lets himself get lost in it. There’s nowhere he’d rather be.</p>
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